


The Lady and the Scholar

by Silberias



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, feral headcanons
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-04
Updated: 2015-08-04
Packaged: 2018-04-12 21:53:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,890
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4496127
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Silberias/pseuds/Silberias
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stannis knows his daughter will need a husband, and he knows she will inherit Dragonstone from him for no sons have lived past infancy. Luckily his wife's cousin has a son who needs to escape the Reach--so, swallowing his pride, Stannis writes to Randyll Tarly in hopes of a match between Samwell and Shireen. </p><p>Tiny, squashed together AU of that world. All ships except for Shireen/Sam are background.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Lady and the Scholar

**Author's Note:**

  * For [alijah](https://archiveofourown.org/users/alijah/gifts).



> This is Alijah's fault!

It was his daughter's tenth nameday, and she was his only child who had breathed past her first year. Stannis had ordered a small feast for the family, grudgingly inviting Renly as well as Shireen's royal cousins, and he watched his daughter avidly as she smiled and played the gracious little lady. No matter that Selyse thought their union cursed, he loved this child.

A child nearly grown into a woman, he thought as he watched her, giggle with Princess Myrcella. It was out of the question to marry her to Prince Joffrey. Not only did Stannis have his own suspicions, but he was fair certain that Queen Cersei would never consent to marrying her golden boy to a 'damaged' girl such as Shireen. It didn't change the fact that in just a few short years his daughter would be a woman flowered, and he himself had no heir aside from her.

It was a secret shame to give a noble lady an inferior husband just so she might produce an heir for her father--but it would have to be done.

"She is ten, my lord, and the search might take several years," Selyse said to him when he quietly brought it up to her as the children played. His wife watched everything Shireen did with a critical eye--she wanted her flawed little girl to be as perfect as possible. A proper Lady of the House Baratheon.

"You worry we put it off too long?"

Selyse shook her head, not taking her eyes from Shireen.

"Only that we should prepare ourselves for many rejections, and that she may die a maid." Glancing between his homely wife and their daughter--a girl strongly resembling both of them, her dark hair flying around her face as one of the Estermont cousins chased her across the room--Stannis hoped his daughter would know the sort of happiness he himself had been denied.

His wife was correct, of course, that no one wanted a girl so deformed by grayscale--no matter the fact that she'd lived and her disease did not progress, no lord even went so far as to suggest an initial meeting. They thought his child monstrous and deformed by more than her old illness. Stannis did not want to despair, he was not the despairing kind, but he was running out of suitable families. When Selyse brought him a letter from her cousin Lady Tarly he had only hesitated for a second before snatching it up. He disliked Randyll Tarly a great deal, but Melessa Tarly was a Florent like his wife and they were relatives of a sort.

_My dearest Selyse,_

_I have heard of your troubles with your daughter. As your kinswoman I have grieved for you, but as a mother I have also grieved. It gives me pain to say it, but I do fear that my eldest son Samwell plans to join the Night's Watch to escape his father. He wants nothing more than to speak sweet words and give kind advice and thoughtful counsel--but these things are not wanted by Lord Randyll in a son and heir._

_Please ask your husband if perhaps a match might be made between Samwell and Shireen, for Dragonstone is so much closer to the Reach than the Wall._

_Your cousin, Melessa_

His face pinched at the thought of giving his daughter to a Tarly, but the boy in question would father Baratheons not Tarlys with Shireen. He sounded biddable and moldable, too, and would be grateful for a place in the world for himself whatever that place might be.

"I will write to Robert and ask him to arrange it. A King's whim is to be respected, when that whim is honorable," he said as he handed the letter back to Selyse.

* * *

 

Sam was terrified of meeting Lord Stannis Baratheon of Dragonstone. His father had told him how Lord Stannis had fought like a badger, holed up in Storm's End on dwindling supplies, how no matter what Randyll threw at him there seemed to be no end to the seige, no surrender. If there was someone scarier than his own father in the Seven Kingdoms, Sam was quite convinced that that person was Lord Stannis Baratheon.

Waiting with his family, secretly holding Talla's hand tightly, for Lord Stannis to enter the keep Sam had taken deep breaths to keep calm. Lord Renly had sent him a playful letter weeks ago, detailing the things that aggravated the middle Baratheon brother and suggesting which ones Sam ought to try out first. If it had done anything it had only served to make Sam even more afraid.

The black and yellow Baratheon flags bore no crown upon the head of the stag, but they were stately and elegant despite it. Below them rode a dour looking man who was losing his hair, followed closely by a wheelhouse that was done in all yellow and black with white curtains. Lord Stannis dismounted and quickly strode to open the door the wheelhouse before even his squires could attend to it. A woman emerged, looking quite alike to Sam's own mother, followed by a little girl of about eleven. She wore her black hair in a little bun, the side of her face a dark, chalky gray.

After taking a long look at her diminutive form, Sam glanced at his father and wondered if this was the newest bath of aurochs blood.

"Lord Baratheon, it is a pleasure to receive you. I trust your journey went well?"

"It went fast enough, thank you Lord Tarly," the reply was curt and to the point, and Lord Stannis' blue eyes were already roaming across the line-up of the Tarly family as Sam's father made the introductions. First on Sam's mother, then himself, then Talla, Dickon, Amelle, and Barenda--and then back again to settle on Sam himself.

"May I then present my wife and daughter? This is Lady Selyse, and Lady Shireen," both mother and child curtsied, and it seemed that little Lady Shireen was as reticent of this meeting as Sam himself.

"Selyse, it is a pleasure to see you after so many years," Mother jumped in when the silence dragged on, "come, let us get you settled. I am glad we are able to meet as a family--perhaps Lady Shireen would like to see the rest of the keep?" she glanced at Amelle and Barenda, who were akin in age to Lady Shireen and who had been eager to have a playmate.

"Then it's settled. Dickon, go 'round and make sure that all of Lord Stannis' men and horses are shown their proper places. Lord Stannis will be wanting to speak with your brother and I. Run along now, son." With this Sam had to let go of his sister's hand and follow Father into the keep, trying not to huff or breathe too hard as Lord Stannis walked crisply at his side. He was indeed a terror to behold.

In Father's sudy they were poured goblets of wine and then left alone, and Sam tried to avoid meeting his future goodfather's eyes while also avoiding his real father's.

"Has your daughter bled yet?" Sam couldn't help it, he looked up with wide, terrified eyes at Lord Stannis. The man's jaw clenched and flexed for a long moment before he shook his head.

"No, she's not. And even if she had, she cannot wed until she reaches an age of majority. My wife thinks sixteen a fine age to set that as--it is the age for a man, she argues--but I think eighteen. Shireen must learn how to manage her household and the lands on Dragonstone if she is to inherit."

"Well I--" Sam tried to say--

"Still your lips, boy, or I will still them for you," his father said in a low voice before continuing to speak to Lord Stannis. Sam felt rather like a goat being haggled over.

"I'll not have him here thinking he can inherit, you must understand," there was a delayed nod from Lord Stannis who stared readily back at Sam who decided he felt less like a goat and more like a deer before the hunter's arrow, "he must go back to Dragonstone with you."

"I had another thought, Lord Randyll," the Baratheon man still didn't waver his gaze, "I'll have care for his expenses, so long as they're modest, to study as a maester in Oldtown. Then he will be of use to my daughter and have something to do in the years it will take for Shireen to grow. Even if this betrothal is broken somehow by war, he will then have a profession of his own that will take him from your line of succession."

"Hmm--I like it. A sight better than being packed off to the Watch, eh boy?" Sam broke the staring match with his future goodfather to look at Lord Randyll again, bobbing his head numbly as he realized that he might actually live to see his old age. He was so very thankful, in that instant as he watched the two older men shake hands on the deal before moving over to the desk to write out the betrothal terms, that his mother had written to her cousin Lady Selyse.

* * *

 

Shireen had only met Sam Tarly once, when she was nearly eleven. He wrote her letters often enough, once every few moons, and he was well-spoken enough in them and he sometimes drew her pictures of the wild things he saw in Oldtown, but he was a stranger to her when he finished his studies as a maester and sailed to Dragonstone.

He had a Dornish-style necklace made for her, the sigils of their houses intertwined in black iron, copper, and rosegold--it was one she didn't intend to wear, afraid the sea air would tarnish the copper and cause rust to set into the iron, though she thanked him prettily for his kindness.

Sam was still fat, though now it seemed a sort of fat that he'd grown into rather than aquired on accident. Father had said he was no warrior, or great statesman, but that the man would treat her well. She certainly hoped so as she gave her hand to him to let him kiss it--for there would be few places to hide should she dislike him. Even escaping Dragonstone wouldn't rid her of Tarlys and Tyrells--for his sister Amelle was betrothed to Prince Tommen, and Uncle Renly's friend Lady Margaery Tyrell was betrothed to Crown Prince Joffrey.

He had a small chain looped into his belt--his maester's links, never to be forged into a complete ring for he would never live as a maester.

"Lady Shireen," he started to say, his voice trembling a little no doubt from Father's glares, and Shireen huffed in annoyance before taking his arm and dragging him away from the small greeting party. She would show him what she could of Dragonstone before the light faded, for he would need to know it like the back of his hand soon enough--the end of Winter, her father had told her, spelled all kinds of activities and demands for the high family.

"I do hope you like books and records, my lord," she said primly as they walked, "for you shall be my steward in all but name--my father's steward Arram will try to help you learn, but he will be in much demand by the Stone Drum."

"Stone Drum?"

"I have managed my own small household for some time now, I live in the Windwyrm tower with my servants and handmaidens. It is a chance for the smallfolk to better themselves and perhaps leave Dragonstone for the mainland and better opportunities--women and brawlers find work as whores and sellswords, but I would have everyone educated and paid steady coin."

This seemed to dumbfound him so she continued on, leading the way out of the castle itself and down to the sloping fields that Sam's party had just stumped up.

"My current maiden of the house is a woman named Ros. Father won't let me name her steward, for she used to be a whore," she stopped then, letting Sam catch his breath as well as looking up into his face, her hands on her hips.

"You aren't going to cause her trouble are you?"

Her betrothed sputtered and turned bright red at the thought and Shireen gave him a little smile.

"Good. What Arram cannot teach you, Ros is more than able. Now, once we are wed," there was more sputtering as she took his arm once more, but she waited for this fit to subside, "once we are wed we are to take in my cousin Myrcella's niece, Princess Meria."

"Isn't she the bastard gir--I mean, well," Shireen sighed and slowed her walk for Sam. He truly did seem a kind sort, and that he was all she was promised he would be--he cared for sweet cakes and words and soft clothes and parchment. Her aunt, the Queen, had been furious when she'd found out that Myrcella was 'forced' to share her home in the Water Gardens with the dubiously legitimate daughter of Princess Arianne. Myrcella had written though that the child was sweet and innocent, with brown curls and dark gray eyes inherited from her father Benjen Stark.

"Princess Arianne wed her husband before his Old Gods, true enough, and never before a septon before he joined the Night's Watch. I don't think that makes little Meria a bastard though. Else the Lords of the North are bastards all," she said with a bit of wry amusement. Ros herself was no bastard by those standards, though her father was from North of the Wall and her mother an innkeeper's daughter.

"Well, I suppose when you put it like that," her companion said, seeming to mull over everything she'd told him in the last quarter hour. Shireen squeezed his arm where she laid her hand, knowing that it was a huge change--he was from the Reach, that place that had been golden and beautiful even as Winter had set in several years ago when they'd visited the Tarlys at Horn Hill. Dragonstone was always a bit damp, resembling according to her father a bit of the southron Vale than anything found in the Crownlands.

"What--what are we supposed to do though? When we foster her?"

Shireen threw him a happy grin at that, launching into the explanation that Meria--Princess Meria third of her name of the House Martell--would rule all of Dorne one day and needed to learn from another woman. The Starks had made noises of attempting to foster her at Winterfell but Princess Arianne and her father Prince Doran did not want her so far from Dorne--and that Shireen, and her future holding of Dragonstone, would be a compromise favorable to all.

"We will teach her as I was taught, and I need not worry that the maester will fill her head with silliness--not when you are here and can teach her without prejudice towards her gender. Ah, here we are," she said, as they reached the village, rapping upon one of the doors.

"Good morning, Davos, Devan," she said once the door opened. An older, grizzled man stood shoulder to shoulder with a man who he might have been twenty years earlier.

"Good morning, Lady Shireen," they said in return, their eyes tracking from her to Sam and back again.

"Sam, meet Ser Davos Seaworth of Cape Wratch and his son Ser Devan. Davos is my father's greatest friend, and Devan is mine. My friends, meet my betrothed, Samwell Tarly."

She glanced up at him and was quite sure that he was even more terrified of these two than he had been of her father--and was glad that she befriended gentle souls, for her husband-to-be certainly needed such people around. This would be alright, she decided as Devan's wife berated them for not letting the Lord and Lady into the house or offering them a seat.

* * *

 

Sam was a bit terrified that he'd hurt his new wife after the bedding but she insisted otherwise--that they would learn how to go along together--and had rolled onto her side to sleep. It was as though they were bedmates rather than husband and wife. Shireen was as direct as her father but her kindness showed through in everything she did. Watching her thin shoulders raise and lower with each breath, Sam hoped he would be worthy of her someday. She couldn't know how much their marriage had saved him, but he would try to show her.

When he got up in the middle of the night to make water he paused at the edge of her side of the bed, taking a deep breath before he leaned down to kiss her cheek--right at the edge of the grayscale and her unmarked flesh. He would have her wholly as she was and love everything about her, for she was a gift beyond compare.

That, and her chambers smelled of books and his friend Alleras had said that should any woman's chamber smell of books she was one to keep.

**Author's Note:**

> Let me know how you liked it, I'm curious to see what people's take on this will be. And yes, it is very very AU.


End file.
